<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>This Is How It Starts by lucybun</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29896500">This Is How It Starts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucybun/pseuds/lucybun'>lucybun</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hawaii Five-0 (2010)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>10.07 spoilers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Doris sucks, M/M, Spoilers, This is a bit of an odd duck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:01:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,409</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29896500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucybun/pseuds/lucybun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A retelling of 10.07 (the one where Doris dies) with a bit of a twist.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>This Is How It Starts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This is how it starts, and this is how it ends—two men and an uncharted fate. Ten years of complications and failures and successes crystallize in moments, fixing them on one path. They are friends and they are partners and they are dear to one another.</p><p>Here is a beginning, another tragedy that’s their <em> once upon a time</em>: the loss of a mother, the rejection of a father, the anger of two abandoned children. It’s a tragedy that breaks all of them and twists their lives. But the wicked witch comes in many forms, and very few know that she can disguise herself as a mother. Did this witch cast a curse on her family? Was she cursed? Was she herself the curse? The how will remain unknown, as will the why, but those questions matter little because the curse reaches too far. There are too many ripples, out to her work, out to a woman she didn’t mean to kill, out to a forgery of a life, and no one realizes how pervasive it is until there is a broken man tied to a chair and blood splattered on a wall. </p><p>Here is the middle. She is a villain grown careless and mean, disloyal and greedy. A murky soul dimmed by the lie of her redemption. The middle is a desperate search, a team’s show of loyalty to a good man, to a man who calls the witch Mother. The middle is a dead woman spilling blood from her mouth and poison over her child until she realizes her fate too late. The middle is a wrecked man and the friend who will hold him up while he grieves. </p><p>Only part of that is true.</p><p>Now the real middle. Now she is a villain playing games with the people she works for, sinking further and further down. Now comes the good son, desperate to save his mother. There is a gunshot and a bloom of red on the son’s shoulder then a mother bleeding out on the floor, dying once again, but not before offering kind words to the child she won’t set free. </p><p>But even that is a lie. She is stolen away and given time to heal, cheating death but wrapping herself in the safety of it. Soon she recovers and slips her keepers, escaping to the home where she once lived to find the son she needs. Few are resurrected, even fewer manage it twice. Perhaps, the son later thinks, the curse that dogs their heels keeps her from dying, or maybe it's just sleight of hand. </p><p>There is his mother, whole and healthy, arms wide open to hold her son while he cries in remembered grief. Confusion and pain and anger flow out of him, but she doesn’t know him well enough to understand. She does know him well enough to be sure he will help her. Once again, she needs to disappear. Once again, she needs somewhere to hide. Once again, she is right about her son.</p><p>Except here comes the partner that the son treasures and adores. He was once a pebble in her shoe; now he is a sword over her head, one that her son must protect her from. He hates lying, her son, and he hates all of the deception. He hates what will happen if they are caught. He hates what will happen to his partner if they are caught. He loves both of them, but she is the one in danger. She is his mother. He must rely on the love he knows his partner feels for him, he must rely on his partner’s ability to forgive. He is furious with her, and he despises her and himself, but he will always help her. She will always let him.</p><p>Except the partner is a detective, and he is smart. He has instincts that have been well honed, and he knows her son better than anyone ever has. He knows when her son is cagey, he knows when her son is lying, and he knows, instinctually, that it has to do with her. His suspicions are a hornet’s nest that he doesn’t want to touch, but as her son sinks under the weight of all their deceit, the man forces himself. He has wisdom when it comes to her child, and it leads him to one place–a Pandora’s Box that stays hidden in the garage. It’s the box of a husband who loved her and of a son who will never let go. It is a box that has stored the chaos of their lives for decades.</p><p>But the partner is frightened for his friend. He knows the mother is barbed, and he knows that her son is caught, so he raises the lid. Passports with her photo spill from the box, cash and a burner phone spill from the box, paperwork for several bank accounts spills from the box. All the things she needs in order to escape, all the things a dead woman would have no use for. </p><p>Soon the son arrives home early, surprising his friend. The son feels caught out, and he is guilty and weak with it. She never hesitates though, and she is willing to do whatever it takes to keep her life, to keep her lifestyle. She deserves her freedom. She deserves her retirement too, does she not? She’s certain that she does.</p><p>Now, there is a mother behind her son with a gun pointed at his partner, at the man she suspects he loves. When the partner points his own gun at her, he is frightened and sorry. History keeps repeating, and it isn’t the pleasant parts that happen over and over. He is tired of her, tired of her consequences being visited on her son, and tired of her son pulling his friends into her disasters. </p><p>Her son, in his distraction, has yet to feel her at his back. Confusion and dread suffuse his whole being because he doesn’t know what’s happening. Until he finally senses her.</p><p>Then there are raised voices. <em> How could you? Have you been lying this whole time? What if the CIA thinks we’re all in on it? What if the cartel comes after her? My kids play here. My kids sleep here. Mary and Joanie too. Is she more important than all of us?  </em></p><p>Then there are raised voices. <em> She’s my mother. I know what I’m doing. Once she’s gone, she’s never coming back. What else could I do? She’s my mother! </em> And the friend’s heart aches for him even as he is flushed with fury. But the detective’s gun never drops because he can’t let her disappear, because he can’t be sure she’ll never come back, because he’s tired of playing all of  these games, because he’s tired of not even knowing he’s one of the pieces.</p><p>He is her son, and he must make a decision. </p><p>She knows he won’t choose her.</p><p>Here is the ending.</p><p>
  <em> Please don’t do this. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She’s ruined so much of your life. </em>
</p><p><em> She's put </em> <b> <em>all</em> </b> <em> of us in danger. </em></p><p>
  <em> Let her go. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She’s not your family anymore. </em>
</p><p>Now there is a shot fired, loud in the small space, making their ears ring. Now the blood comes, seeping from the detective’s arm. It’s a messy distraction, but, to the witch’s surprise, it doesn’t work. The detective still manages to pull his trigger, and her knee shatters.</p><p>The partner will live, and his arm will be fine, she is skilled enough to know that. There will be explanations, recriminations, and handcuffs. There will be a hospital room and two guards at the door. The men in dark suits will arrive, and soon there will be cells and shackles, and, if she’s very lucky, they will let her live.</p><p>The son will never know her fate, but he will one day realize that when she was taken away, he was finally set free. He will know a life without the wicked witch. He will know what it's like to live with a ring on his finger and a bravehearted man who will always love him and who will always save him.</p><p>This is how it starts, and this is how it ends—two men and an uncharted fate. Ten years of complications and failures and successes crystallize in moments, fixing them on one path. They are friends and they are partners and they are dear to one another.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, this was a departure. I'm not sure where this even came from or what it even is, but, in an effort not to be so self-deprecating, I'll admit I like it. Shout out to Lizlybear for giving this a read and for being an awesome cheerleader! If you made it this far, thank you!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>